Chapter 2
The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over everything, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of honeysuckle.
Caroline's heart fluttered, and she kept a brisk pace as she returned home from looking in on Mrs. Putnum, an elderly neighbor whose eyesight was failing. She hadn’t intended to stay so long, but Mrs. Putnum seemed especially lonely. Jackson would understand.
Her fingers went to the silver comb in her hair and traced the rose engravings. He’s going to ask my father’s permission and make our courtship official. I know it. I could see it in his eyes.
Her breath caught as she rounded the corner. Jackson’s carriage stood beneath the porte cochère, its polished wood gleaming, and his horse standing calmly in the harness, swishing its tail.
Propelled by a burst of giddy excitement, Caroline hurried up the porch steps, pausing to collect herself before opening the door.
She smoothed the bodice of her russet dress and bounced on her heels to shake the wrinkles from her skirts, ensuring every ruffle and pleat lay just so.
She wanted to look perfect the moment her most treasured dream came true.
The comforting scent of beeswax and lemon oil surrounded her when she entered. Jackson’s hat and coat hung on the rack, so she moved deeper into the house, her skirts skimming the polished wood floors, and her steps echoing through the foyer and down the hall.
Soft sounds of leisure emanated from the family parlor—the graze of rockers against the floor, the steady ticking of the grandfather clock, and the click of a chess piece being moved followed by a masculine grunt of discouragement.
If someone had engaged her beloved in a game, they would have to promptly give him up.
Caroline stepped into the room. Her mother was perched on her favorite chair by the window, nimble fingers working a delicate embroidery hoop with only the aid of the light.
At first glance, she could pass for an older sister.
Her eyes crinkled at the edges, and gray hairs had invaded the wavy golden-brown ones at her temples, but she’d kept a trim figure, and her skin still had a youthful glow.
In the chair beside her, 18-year-old Amanda had her face buried in a well-worn novel, and two of their brothers—16-year-old Simon and 12-year-old Knox—sat hunched over the chess board.
“Where’s Jackson?”
Without taking his eyes off the game, Simon hooked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of their father’s study. “In there.”
“Been there a while,” Knox added.
Caroline took a seat near the study door, in a worn leather armchair where her father often sat, clasping her hands in a knot so she wouldn’t wring them.
Despite the tranquil scene, an undercurrent of anticipation hung in the air.
Her mother's gaze flicked periodically towards the closed door of the study, and a slight tension was evident in the way Amanda gripped her book.
Caroline strained to hear what was being said, but the only sound was an intermittent, unintelligible rumble.
Amanda lifted her eyes, revealing dark circles beneath them.
Caroline gave her a reassuring look. As soon as she and Jackson had a moment alone, she would insist he give Ross a firm talking to if he hadn’t already.
Amanda went back to her reading, so Caroline sought another distraction. Her gaze wandered from the delicate tea set arranged on the side table to the faded daguerreotypes lining the mantle, and finally busied itself counting the chevrons in the blue and gold wallpaper.
“Jackson is looking well,” her mother said, glancing up from her stitches. “Thin and nursing a bit of a limp, but better than I anticipated.”
“He is,” Caroline replied, though she didn’t entirely agree. Jackson had lost so much weight he was rawboned, not merely lean, like her father. He appeared well enough on the surface, but she knew him—really knew him. He was hiding more than battle-weariness and physical pain.
“Where’s Landon?” Caroline asked of her middle brother, changing the subject to avoid a pointless argument, and for the sake of Jackson’s dignity.
“He went riding on that nag of his,” Knox said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand the appeal.”
Caroline did.
14-year-old Landon had been drawn to all things equine since he was a babe in arms, and he’d been deprived of having his own horse due to the demands of the war. Now, so determined was he to right that wrong, he spent every spare hour, nursing a soldier’s reject back to health.
Knox let out a triumphant laugh as he captured one of Simon’s knights, causing Caroline to jump. She started again when the clock chimed and continued for a count of six.
Jackson had been secreted with her father for the better part of an hour. What was taking them so long? How much time did it take to ask for permission to embark on a courtship?
Her excitement began to waver, replaced by a growing unease. She’d assumed, since her family had known Jackson from childhood, that consent would be a forgone conclusion. Now, with each passing second, she feared more and more that her father might’ve opted to decline.
It was his right as the head of the family, but why level such a blow against a man he admired?
Caroline's head snapped up at the creak of a hinge. The study door swung open and Jackson emerged, followed closely by her father.
Jackson’s skin was so pale it was almost ashen. A haunted look replaced his usual confidence, and a clenched jaw bracketed a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
His gaze swept the room, briefly acknowledging the gathered family members, before returning to land on her. Gone was the welcoming affection. A storm of unfamiliar emotions had taken its place.
The air grew so heavy as she studied his expression it threatened to suffocate her. Something had gone wrong.
Caroline rose and reached for Jackson’s hand, expecting him to join her and stand by her side—even if only to weather her father’s refusal—but he ignored the gesture, shooting a chill through her veins.
“I'm so sorry,” he whispered, his voice strained and barely audible. “I hope you can forgive me.”
Before she could respond, he moved past her, taking up a position next to her sister. With a warmer smile, he took Amanda’s hand and assisted her to rise, leaving Caroline reeling in his wake.
“Is everything alright?” Caroline's mother asked.
“Everything's fine, Nettie,” her father replied in a cheerful tone. “I have some news to share.” His eyes twinkled, and his smile widened under his long wavy beard, further deepening Caroline's confusion.
Her father cleared his throat, though he’d had the entire room’s attention from the moment he walked through the door. “After speaking with Jackson at length, it is with great pleasure that I announce his and Amanda's engagement.”
Knox snickered. “Very funny, Pop.”
Her father aimed a frown in his youngest son’s direction. “It wasn’t intended to be. Jackson asked for Amanda’s hand in marriage, and I consented to the match.”
Knox and Simon looked up from their game, speechless, and her mother stared at her father with raised brows.
Caroline’s heart stuttered then hammered against her ribcage.
She looked from Jackson to Amanda, searching for any sign that this was some cruel joke. But Jackson’s eyes remained fixed on her father. Amanda’s, too, her fingers wrapped around the forearm of a man who wasn’t hers.
Tears stung Caroline's eyes as she fought to maintain her composure. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but her voice remained trapped in her aching throat.
“Engaged...” Caroline's mother said, giving Caroline a quick assessing look before setting her stitching aside and approaching the traitorous couple. “Why, this is wonderful news,” she went on, clasping Jackson’s hand and enveloping Amanda in a hug. “I’m happy for you.”
A wave of congratulations and well-wishes rose around her, but Caroline heard none of it—could utter none of it. Her world had suddenly tilted on its axis. Her vision narrowed in on the man she loved and the sister she adored, standing side by side, driving a dagger of betrayal through her heart.
Jackson cleared his throat, interrupting her mother’s happy chatter about planning the wedding.
“I’m afraid there won’t be time. A fellow officer has been helping me secure a farm in southern Nebraska Territory, near a town called Sagebrush Springs, and the sale just went through.
Amanda and I will be leaving on Monday.”
“Two days?” her mother exclaimed.
“I know it’s sudden,” Jackson said, “but don’t worry. My parents and I have taken care of everything. We’ve planned a feast and secured a minister. You’re all invited to our home after services tomorrow for the wedding.”
He’d been planning this since before his return?
That was the final blow.
Caroline smoothed the fabric of her skirt—the simple act a desperate attempt to regain control over her turbulent emotions—and began walking. Each step felt like a mile as she made her way toward the door leading to the garden, her head held high despite the fact her heart was breaking.
“Where are you going?” her mother asked.
Caroline paused and turned, forcing a tight smile. “I just need a moment of fresh air. I won't be long.”
Amanda finally looked at her, her eyes filled with guilt and a plea for understanding. It didn’t help.
Caroline’s chest constricted so tightly it hurt. Each breath was a battle against sobs trying to escape. She slipped from the room and hurried to the garden, ripping the silver comb from her hair. What a fool she’d been, thinking it was a token of Jackson’s love.
It was a parting gift.
She hid herself in the shadows and cried.